Is There Somewhen
by GeneratorCat
Summary: During the events of Battle for the Cowl, Tim is confronted two very different Jason Todds. One nearly kills him. The other is hell bent on saving him. JayTim.
1. Chapter 1

It was cool down there in the ruined subway tunnel. The rubble Tim had collapsed on felt good against his cheek, except for the grit and the jagged edges digging into his body. There were worse places to die. Probably.

But he wouldn't die. Not if someone found him soon. He'd lost a good amount of blood and had some fairly severe internal damage, but he'd be okay with medical help. He just had to hope Dick would get to him in time, although Dick was probably dealing with… Dealing with Jason. Selina might come, but she'd taken a pretty bad hit and might be out for a while yet. Damian was injured too and should have been bound to the cave.

It was funny, Tim thought as he felt blood slipping out of the gash in his abdomen, that Gotham was filled with super heroes, all of the people Dick trusted to help keep the city together after Bruce's death. And yet, none of them would come to help Tim. None of them knew he needed help, or where to find him.

The suit he wore felt much too tight. The symbol on his chest burned into his skin, weighed him down. He'd been Batman for all of one night and look what happened. Beat to hell and making everything worse.

He hadn't wanted it. Any of it.

Tim didn't want to be Batman, but he hadn't started out wanting to be Robin, either. (Sometimes Tim tried to think of what he had wanted, before, but he came up empty and wasn't that a little sad.) No, he did it because he was needed, then and now. But this time was different and he knew it. He wasn't Batman. He couldn't do this. Not yet. Maybe someday he would be enough for the suit but right then he wasn't enough to take down one man, let alone protect all of Gotham.

His eyes gently fell shut as the cool air and blood loss seduced him to sleep, but the image came back to him against the black of his eyelids. Those crazed, glowing red eyes, that broken laughter. The blood running down from beneath a cowl and the satisfaction in his smile when he felt Tim's pulse stop.

Tim had never been so afraid of Jason Todd. He'd never been so sad for him. He didn't know it was this bad, that Jason was so far gone. The hardest part was that Jason was trying to help, in his own twisted way. The intentions were in the right place, but the way he'd been acting, the way he'd stolen the cowl and used it in such a sick way… It was frightening that Jason believed that was the right way. He'd been Robin, he'd been _good_ , and now he was out there ruining Batman. He was ruthless and horrific and doing it under the symbol Bruce had worked so hard to create.

Bruce would be disgusted by Jason Todd's Batman. He'd probably be pretty disappointed in Tim's as well.

Yet, in some way, Tim understood. Not that he could relate to Jason's state of mind or the trauma he'd faced, but Tim could connect the dots, from point A to B. This matter put under these conditions with that variable would syphon through to make those results. He saw the math of it.

He even, in a smaller way, saw the truth behind Jason's logic. It was tiny, but there. It was possible, in extreme times, that extreme measures were needed. And Jason was extreme.

But Batman could never be that.

The soft echoing of footsteps reverberated down the tunnel. Tim slumped even further into the bed of broken rocks and twisted metal, relieved even as more and more blood pooled underneath him. Someone was coming. He'd be okay.

He saw boots first, big and dirty and he didn't recognise them. The logical part of his brain started to gear up, prepare for an enemy. The rest of him was too tired and drained to do anything. The someone came closer until they were standing right beside Tim. His eyes were half-open but trained on the boots, couldn't manage to look up and see who was filling them.

"Damn, kid," the person said, voice deep, familiar and yet completely unknown at the same time in a way that had the little functional part of Tim's brian racing, grasping at memories and trying to connect them to this moment.

There was some shifting and then the person was within Tim's view, kneeling down in front of him. Shock and confusion and adrenaline spiked through Tim. Memories flashed in his mind of just under an hour ago, of brutal punches and a batarang to the chest. That laugh and those eyes and that voice that he'd been replaying since he collapsed. Everything in him screamed to _do something_ , get away now or the psycho really would do it this time. But Tim couldn't move other than a weak attempt to roll away that had him crying out softly in pain. He couldn't fight. This time, Jason Todd really would kill him.

"Hey, calm down," Jason said gently, and it was enough to startle Tim into listening for just a moment. He stared up at Jason as the man reached out and coaxed Tim into a better position on his back. Tim flinched with every point of contact between, ten levels past surprised as Jason pulled out some bandages from his jacket and pressed them to the wound he'd caused not that long ago.

Tim felt like his brain was stuck, completely immobilised by what was happening. He couldn't understand. He couldn't process this.

Jason Todd was saving him.

Maybe he wanted to keep Tim. The thought was utterly terrifying. He'd take Tim and keep him locked up, do who knows what. For his own amusement or to fuck with Dick and the rest. The idea had Tim squirming again, little whimpering protests falling from his lips. Jason stilled him with strong, gentle hands.

"It's okay, Tim. I'm not gonna hurt you." Tim looked at him in disbelief. Jason winced. "Any more than I already did. Promise."

It sounded so sincere that Tim would have believed it, had it been anyone other than Jason Todd making the promise. Tim was surprised to find he wanted to believe it, and not only for the fact that it would mean the situation wasn't horrible and getting worse. He wanted to believe that Jason had changed, as unlikely as it was that such a change could occur in the past hour. He wanted Jason to get better.

Jason continued to treat the worst of Tim's injuries calmly and precisely. It was was such a contrast to the savagery he'd displayed earlier. The lines of his face were smooth and set in steady determination. That's when Tim noticed that he wasn't bleeding. His nose didn't seem to be broken, nor his lip cut. No part of him was bruised. Tim knew for a fact the damage he'd done to that face and yet now none of it showed.

And Tim noticed something else then: age. Wrinkles and a broad, square jaw and even a couple grey hairs along the temples. The man looked like he could be pushing thirty years old.

The face of the Jason Todd in front of him was not the same one he'd met with earlier that night. The Jason Todd caring for him in the aftermath of his own attack was not the same man.

"W-who… how," Tim croaked out with the last of his strength. He felt himself slipping away and hoped he would wake up again. His eyes fell shut and in his last moment of consciousness he heard, low and soothing, "Don't worry, baby. I've got you."


	2. Chapter 2

Bright lights shone through the window, vivid reds and electric blues and neon greens. They flashed and flickered, playing over the room. The sounds of Gotham nightlife permeated the thin walls and thinner glass, men calling at people working the street, cars honking, sirens, shouts and curses filling the air. Sitting in the ratty chair by the window, Jason was resting for the first time that night. That day. He let the sounds and colors wash over him, and it was comforting because it was the same. That was the one constant throughout space and time: the feel of Gotham.

Tucked under the blankets on the bed, Tim slept, his breathing shallow but _there_. He had a pulse, weak, but tangible proof that Jason had done some good tonight.

It hurt to see Tim so hurt. He'd seen it a thousand times over the years and this, this moment and what made it happen- _who_ made it happen, this was the absolute worst.

Tim was pale and clammy and so very vulnerable. More than any of the nights when Tim came back from patrol with cuts and bruises and broken bones. That time his thumb hung off the rest of his hand by a solitary ligament. The time he was out for four days and woke up not remembering the past six months and scared the hell out of everybody until the day he smiled, so bright, and announced it was all coming back. Jason had seen Tim's insides spilling out of him, his body bent at unnatural angles, but never had Tim seemed so fragile. Never had Jason been so scared for him.

Tim was covered in bandages. It wasn't the best treatment but it was enough, and as well as Jason could do under the circumstances.

He didn't have anything set up here yet, no safe-house or cache of supplies. He had gotten the essential medical supplies from a corner store and a cheap room at a motel that wouldn't raise alarms about the bloody sheets they were sure to leave, not as long as he left some extra cash for their trouble. He knew of other places they could have gone, better stocked and under the radar, but the _other_ Jason Todd also knew of them, and the last thing he wanted was to have _that_ confrontation. The motel wasn't secure and they couldn't stay there long, but Tim would be okay to move in a day or so. Hopefully.

Tim slept on. Jason checked the bandages again, searching for any improvements he could make. He'd stitched up the cut on Tim's chest and a few more shallow ones on his back and face. The one on his chest would scar, Jason knew. He knew how it would look later on, the shape and color and texture. His eyes roamed over Tim's skin and saw scars that weren't yet there, littering his pale skin, but only in Jason's memory. For now.

Too many of those scars were Jason's fault and that hurt like hell.

Jason hadn't expected it to torment him like it was. He saw those scars every day, but being confronted with it fresh was harder to look at. It was eating away at that wall he had built against that horrible version of himself. The past him that prowled in his memories and tried to remind him at every turn of all the damage and pain he had caused. Through years of healing and help, Jason had managed to distance himself from that man and every day he fought to not be torn apart by those memories. Jason had gotten to a place where he could deal with it all, keep it locked in the back of his mind and be somebody new.

He'd known that coming here, doing this, would be a test. He didn't think it would be quite so hard. It was difficult to maintain the required distance when staring straight at the evidence of the worst of himself.

Himself. Because it was him. It was Jason Todd that did this and he was still that same man, as much as he'd tried to exorcise his past. It was he that did this, and though he'd like to think that he'd outgrown that person, it would always be a part of him. It would always haunt him.

Seeing Tim on the edge of death threatened his mental barriers. Seeing Tim on the edge of death by the hand of one Jason Todd nearly had Jason unraveling at the seams. He held his hands to his head, gripped his hair tight as though that would help keep it all together inside.

Jason closed his eyes and in his memory there was a Tim that looked at him with trust in his eyes. He held on to that image, trying to overlap the one from earlier, from the tunnel when Tim had looked _so scared_ , scared of _Jason_. He wanted to push that fear on Tim's face far away. He knew he would have to see it again soon when Tim woke up, but for just a little while he wanted only to remember _his_ Tim. The one on the bed in front of him had been frightened, and confused, and disappointed. The disappointment more than anything made Jason feel guilty, even though it wasn't for _him_ , exactly. (But it was, it was _him_.) And, knowing Tim, some of that disappointment was for himself and his own failures.

That wouldn't change, Jason knew. In ten years Tim would still blame himself for every loss. He would feel it all too deeply, no matter how many times Jason assured him there was nothing he could have done. Tim felt responsible for things that were out of his control because he expected too much of himself, that he should have control over everything. He let himself feel the pain of his failures, even imagined ones, while Jason stopped himself from remembering his, even unforgivable ones. But, looking at Tim now, maybe he should have made himself feel them more keenly.

He knew the moment Tim woke up, though the kid did a good job at hiding it. He would have liked to give him a minute to orient himself, come back to consciousness on his own terms, but Jason didn't want to give him the time for his mind to go to the worst possible scenario. If he waited, by the time he got around to talking, Tim would already be too far on guard and likely have an escape plan mapped out. So he jumped right in.

"Don't freak out, Tim. I'm not going to hurt you."

Tim wouldn't believe him, but it was still the best way to start.

Immediately Tim opened his eyes and zeroed in on Jason, still sitting by the window, about four feet away from where Tim lay. Then he scanned the room, no doubt searching for other threats, possible weapons, exits, anything he could use or that could be used against him. When he finished he looked back to Jason, searched his person. Jason had made sure to disarm himself completely, and tried to adopt a non threatening posture. He could see the questions dancing behind Tim's eyes, and him sorting through them, figuring out what to ask first: "Who are you?" "How do you look like Jason Todd?" "Why did you take me?" "What do you want from me?"

"You look like hell," was what Tim finally said. It was perfect and Jason laughed, so much of the stress he'd been burning through the past few hours vanishing. "And I don't mean how you're suddenly an old man."

"Not that old," Jason countered, and he couldn't help but smile a little.

But Tim wasn't smiling. He was tense and trying to hide it. He was scared and covering it with sarcasm. Another thing that would be the same in ten years. "You sure? I can see your arthritis acting up from here."

Jason had to stop himself from jumping up and pushing him back down when Tim moved to sit up. He thought Tim caught the way his body flinched. "Careful. You'll rip your stitches, and I don't want to have to redo them."

Tim propped himself up on the pillows behind him. He seemed somewhat assured that Jason wasn't going to attack within the next few minutes. Or he just realised there was very little he could do to protect himself if Jason did attack and decided to use the time to get some answers.

"So… Jason. You _are_ Jason?"

"Yes."

"How? You aren't… the same Jason from before."

Slowly Jason leaned forward and braced his elbows against his knees. Tim leaned just slightly further away. _No_ , he wanted to say, _no that wasn't me, I wouldn't do those things_. But it was. He had. "Yes and no."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I don't have the energy for bullshit right now. Just get to it."

"Alright," Jason nodded. "Well Tim, what do think about time travel?"


End file.
